Izuku Midoriya stood in a field of flowers.
He could not help but marvel at the alien, yet nostalgic, feel of the space around him. The floriated beauty of the valley was surrounded by blue crystals, while overhead hung an azure sky heralding a sunset that would never come. Izuku breathed in the imaginary air, his senses suffused with the aromatic scents from the flowers at his feet.
As Izuku's eyes wandered across this strange realm, his attention was drawn to the only other person present. She was a woman with a flawless doll-like beauty, her skin pale like snow. Clad in a beautiful white robe adorned with golden rings and a blood-red stole, her entire appearance had a somewhat religious feel. For a moment, her beauty left Izuku entranced; until his once sparkling green eyes, now jaded by the tribulations of the War, met her crimson gaze.
Almost as if reading from a script, the woman spoke with dispassion, "Are you the one who seeks a wish?"
Seeing Izuku nod, the woman spoke once more, "Then state your desires to the Grail, Wishmaker, and let the Third Magic answer your call."
Izuku gave a weary smile. At last, the Holy Grail War could come to an end. Japan could be free from that wretched conflict which stained so many lives.
After a final pause that felt like an eternity, Izuku spoke, "I wish…"
I saw a butterfly that flapped its wings
Those wings set a ripple on the wind
And that wind became a hurricane
FATE: MYSTERIOUS NIGHT
A fanfiction by CaelumCrossfire
False Prologue I: Seven Wings of the Butterfly
Snowfield, Nevada
Several Months Ago…
Snowfield– a city that could certainly be considered a cleft. Nestled near a wilderness area in eastern Nevada, it was a place where truth and falsehood could be obscured and twisted.
In a sense, Snowfield served as a hazy boundary, a nexus for those who wished to defile the Holy Grail.
Despite being somewhat out of the way, the city attracted plenty of visitors every year. Usually, they were folks who were disinterested in the crowds of Las Vegas, but still desired the experience of visiting high-end casinos and hotels. It was this attractive factor (as well as the manipulations of American Magi) that had transformed this small frontier town on indigenous land into a thriving metropolis over the course of only 70 years.
As with any thriving city, Snowfield was no stranger to criminal activities, requiring a well-trained police department to maintain order. Like so many things found in Snowfield, this police force was not without its eccentricities, and its headquarters was no exception.
If one were to visualize a police station, the Snowfield Police Headquarters would certainly not be what came to mind. The station, utilizing one of the tallest highrises in the city, was more reminiscent of a five-star hotel than a typical law enforcement building. It had all the necessary features of a police station, but the cognitive dissonance it produced was always jarring to both visitors and newcomers to the police force.
The upper levels, above the reach of the atrium that dominated the lower floors, were home to the various archives and offices necessary for the station to function. This included an office engraved with the name of the current Police Chief of Snowfield, Orlando Reeve.
Police Chief Orlando was an imposing man with graying sandy blonde hair and surprisingly lean build. Due to the Snowfield Police's unique uniform, many in the city thought he resembled a Civil War general more than a 21st-century police chief.
But criminals, subordinates, and citizens alike could agree on one thing about Orlando— the man exuded an aura of inspiring tenacity, his stony gaze being both intimidating and unyielding.
It was here in the top-most room that he, one of the most influential men in all of Snowfield, looked out upon the glowing cityscape. His leather shearling bomber jacket lay on top of his shoulders like a cape, held up by means unknown to even his closest subordinates.
'The False Holy Grail War. I may not agree with Faldeus's decision to involve outside parties, but that does not affect my end goal. I will win this war, and I will win it with the power of humans.'
Soon, Snowfield would be embroiled in a cesspool of conflict. Drawing in Magi with rumors propagated by Faldeus's organization, the American Government hoped to bring about an imitation Grail War. A conflict beginning with six Servants that would quickly explode into a thirteen-sided clash with the summoning of a Saber-class Servant.
While Orlando did intend to summon a Servant for the first phase, he did not intend to put that Servant on the frontlines. No, he aimed to send his own subordinates out into the fray. To fight heroes with humans.
Orlando's ambition was a lofty one, for even low-grade Heroic Spirits could overwhelm an average human. Even with magecraft, a massive power gap remained— Noble Phantasms. Crystallizations of legend, Noble Phantasms were capable of annihilating armies, bringing down whole fortresses, and even threatening the stability of the world itself. To even have a chance of facing them, Orlando knew that somehow, someway, the Magi under his command needed to wield Noble Phantasms of their own.
Returning to his desk, Orlando slipped his finger under the central drawer. Resonating with the magical enchantments placed upon the drawer, Orlando's body was magically scanned by the drawer's invisible defenses. Recognizing his genetic signature, the drawer unlocked with a satisfying click, allowing the chief to retrieve a small package from inside. Placing the package on the desk, he carefully pulled apart the wrappings to reveal an aged manuscript.
'The original copy of "The Three Musketeers". With this as my catalyst, I should be sure to summon the spirit I need.'
At the moment, the 200-year-old manuscript was nothing more than a pile of aged paper. But once Orlando acquired his Command Spells, it would serve as a precise catalyst. The chief considered looking for another one of Alexandre Dumas's manuscripts, but the only other one with sufficient catalytic strength was "The Count of Monte Cristo". However, because the Grail could bring forth individuals who existed only in stories, such as Sherlock Holmes or Henry Jekyll, it was necessary to use a catalyst where Dumas's name would be less likely to be potentially overshadowed.
His daily inspection of the relic complete, Orlando rewrapped the manuscript to prevent any damage from overexposure. Placing the package back in the drawer, he sent a magical signal to the lock to re-engage.
His daily routine concluded, Orlando closed his eyes, planning to sleep in his office. The magical protections were strong enough that the glass windows were not a security concern, and the defenses of the police station were more trustworthy than those of his residence.
Before Orlando could get any rest, however, a young girl's voice rang out from the darkness on the other side of the room.
"Wakey-wakey, Mr. Police Chief!"
Orlando's eyes shot open, his body practically leaping out of his chair.
'Prelati?!'
Stepping out of the shadows was a girl who appeared to be in her mid-teens, dressed in black and white gothic-lolita clothing. As she approached Orlando's desk, her ankle-length light gray hair swayed from side to side, revealing the skull patterns on the ends. She had an innocent-looking face, but Orlando knew better than to let his guard down.
The girl's name was Francesca Prelati. Despite her young appearance, she had been alive since the 15th Century, using her unique reincarnation magecraft to evade true death.
The genius who conned the students of Merlin.
The heretic who had corrupted Gilles de Rais and translated the R'lyeh Text.
The pestilence who had survived (to some degree) encounters with both True Ancestors and Magicians.
Sometimes "she" was Francesca. Other times "he" was François. Gender didn't truly matter for eventually the present version of Prelati would simply be discarded for the next.
Orlando had recognized her voice as soon as she had spoken, but that did not calm his nerves in the slightest. Regardless of their association, Francesca's arrival should have set off his anti-intruder enchantments. Yet her presence had gone completely undetected, setting Orlando's instincts on edge. How long had she been here without him noticing?
"What are you doing here, you old hag?"
Hearing his response, Francesca pouted, "So mean! Calling a young maiden like me something so rude! Do you call all girls who live in Snowfield stuff like that? I can just imagine the headlines when people find out just how rude you are. How did you even get elected anyway?"
"Answer the question, Prelati."
Francesca threw her hands up in mock surrender, "Fine, fine. I'll get to my point, you old stick in the mud!"
With a dramatic twirl, Francesca pointed a finger gun at Orlando. It was rather adorable all things considered, but it didn't assuage Orlando's concerns in the slightest, "You see, rookie, I know just how much you've been looking forward to the False Holy Grail War and your whole 'Humans on the level of Heroic Spirits plan'. I'm sorry to say there's been a little change of plans."
Confused, Orlando continued his interrogation, "What do you mean, 'change of plans'?"
Francesca giggled, "You see, thanks to a certain someone, I've found a way better location to hold my False Holy Grail War!"
"You had a deal with Faldeus and the government. Do you think I will just let you leave and tamper with the False Grail System without interfering? Don't be ridiculous."
'I'd have preferred to keep the spirits and demonic beasts in the atrium… but I'll need them now.'
Reaching under his desk, Orlando triggered the magical alarm systems. The trigger had a similar effect to his pistol, calling forth his familiars into the real world.
'They'll have less of a chance of being fooled by Prelati's illusion magecraft, and I can easily dispel them if necessary.'
After a tense silence, however, nothing happened. Neither spirits nor beasts manifested, leaving the office quiet.
'What's going on? Have my magical defenses been destroyed?'
Francesca pretended to pout, "Wow, way to try and ruin my fun! Here I was, giving you a nice explanation and you go and activate the silent alarm? Luckily for me, it's not like it'll do you any good. I've disabled it~"
Orlando stepped to the side of his desk, Francesca's gaze following him as he drew his sabre, "Enough games, Prelati."
Unbothered, Francesca continued sauntering towards Orlando. "Snowfield is pretty nice, and America is pretty isolated where the Association is concerned, but this new location is even more far off and unique. After all, what could compare to another world, right?"
Orlando was caught off guard by her statement. "Another world? Impossible. The Second Magic is the purview of Zelretch alone."
Francesca giggled again, "Just the reaction I was hoping for! You're right, it would normally be impossible. But you see, my new friend doesn't exactly play by the rules of this world."
'This world…? What sort of—'
"Anyways, with Faldeus off playing apprentice in the Clock Tower, the Grail's facility is a little, shall I say… understaffed. Which is perfect!"
It was then Orlando had his mind made up. There was nothing to negotiate. All that was left was to stop Prelati's scheme, and he had to stop her himself.
'I'll deal with the consequences later. If Prelati runs wild with the Grail, False or otherwise, nothing good will come of it.'
But before he could finish readying himself for combat, Orlando felt a sensation from his right leg. Looking down, he saw his limb being gripped by arms of glowing energy. Orlando tried to analyze it, but the alien colors only gave him a sudden migraine.
"Grrr… what is this?!"
Francesca smiled and siddled up close to Orlando. Gesturing her hand upwards, she manifests another arm of alien colors. The pulsing limb caught the police chief's wrist, forcing him to drop his sabre. The blade clattered to the floor.
"You like this new power of mine? It's an ability from the other world, courtesy of my new friend, Foreigner. Back there they call them Quirks. Apparently, 80% of the population there has them, although I think that number is a fair bit out of date."
"Quirks? Foreigner? What are you…"
Francesca cut him off, "Ah, yeah, Foreigner. You probably don't know much about the extra classes, but they're a Servant. Well, not really, but we won't sweat the details!"
Putting her hand to her chest, Francesca bowed slightly, "Which makes me a Master. Wanna see the proof?"
Picking up Orlando's sabre by the blade, Francesca ran it carefully along one of her gloved hands. The split glove fell away, revealing a set of purple Command Spells emblazoned on the back of her hand. It was most unusual; while the shape of Command Spells varied from Master to Master, the color was always a bright red. For them to be purple was a complete contradiction of the known Grail systems.
"Unfortunately, a girl can't go showing her Command Spells to all the old men in her life, Mr. Police Chief! Sorry-not-sorry, but I'm going to have to kill you~"
The limbs that bound Orlando then shortened, dragging him down to the floor as his magic circuits erupted underneath his skin. The Snowfield Police Chief was not a blood supremacist like some magi, but still took pride in his number of magic circuits. Now, those circuits were incinerating him, bit by bit. Unable to hold himself together, Orlando began screaming in pain.
'What is… this power…?'
Francesca watched the torturous scene with the same innocent expression, but her underlying malice was clear as day, "I still haven't settled on a name for my Quirk though. I did consider asking you for suggestions, but…"
Looking down at the suffering Orlando, Francesca put her hand to ear in a mocking listening pose, "Seems like you've nothing to offer but screams; although, I do enjoy a good scream. Such a shame, former rookie."
After listening for a while longer, she stood up, "...and there's the silence. Such a fantastic-sounding death, I must say. A good screaming solo there, Mr. Police Chief!~"
With that, Francesca Prelati strode out of the penthouse office, singing a little tune as she went. As the last echoes of the doors slamming shut tapered away, the office of Orlando Reeve fell silent.
Kawasaki, Kanagawa Prefecture
One Month Ago…
Across the boundaries of existence, there was a planet called Earth.
It was not the Earth the magi knew. In fact, the number who knew of its existence, even in the Moonlit World, could be counted on a single hand.
A world where not magic, but superpowers known as Quirks were wielded by humanity. Beginning with the infamous "Glowing Baby" over one hundred years ago, Quirks continued to appear in increasing numbers and even started to manifest in wild animals. With the advent of a superpowered society, humanity turned its eyes away from the boundlessness of space and underwent a long period of societal transformation. The technology once used to fund wars was focused inward as countries put their resources towards the new social paradigm: Professional Heroics.
As the age of superheroes began, tales of Gods and Magic were steadily forgotten. Legends like those of Heracles, Gilgamesh, and King Arthur paled in comparison to the public's fascination with the Heroes who lived among them.
But for the first time in centuries, the balance was shifting once again. Myth and modernity would once again be placed up a scale. An observer who had set the path of this world in motion was no longer content to watch. Through their influence, an outsider had been allowed to place a new system upon this world; a system with a very particular name.
"The Holy Grail War?"
In this alternative Earth, in the country of Japan, the confused words of Ibara Shiozaki echoed through a small church.
Ibara, the daughter of a high-ranking member of the Catholic Church, was a relatively normal-looking girl except for one thing. Instead of hair, Ibara's head produced numerous green, thorn-covered vines which she could manipulate with her Quirk, Vines. Some would call it irony, the religious girl controlling a literal crown of thorns. Ibara considered it fate. She viewed her Quirk as a sign from the creator, pushing her to help others just as so many before had.
It was for this reason Ibara had chosen to pursue heroics. She had already passed U.A.'s heroics entrance exam with flying colors. However, this new situation was changing her future from that of a simple heroine-to-be to something she never would have imagined.
"I'm sorry, Father, but I'm going to have to ask you to explain."
Magecraft. Heroic Spirits. Parallel Worlds.
Even in a world filled with superpowers, the vine-haired girl found herself completely out of her element. Some would think it all a lie, but Ibara knew her father would not do something like that— in fact, he could not even if he wanted to.
Piero, a Japanese-Italian man, possessed a Quirk called "Truthsayer". It allowed him to summon ethereal vines that compelled those they bound to tell the truth. However, the Quirk had a side-effect. As the "root" of the vines, Piero was unable to tell lies of his own. This had never bothered Piero, though. He had always been an honest sort of person.
Thanks to Truthsayer, Ibara knew that what father was telling her was undoubtedly the truth, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.
"I am afraid this is about that mark on your hand, Ibara. That bruise is the initial form of the Command Spells, the mark of a Master. The fact they have appeared on your hand symbolizes that the Holy Grail has chosen you as one of the seven Masters of the Holy Grail War."
"Which means I'll have to summon a Heroic Spirit."
"Yes. Caster, Rider, Saber, Lancer, Archer, Berserker, or…" Piero's voice faltered, "Assassin". Although he tried to hide it, Ibara could tell he was worried. She was her father's only child, and now she was destined to enter a death match between heroes of legend. There was no guarantee Ibara would survive the battles to come; both she and her father knew that. But Ibara put her fears aside. She had to.
Laying a hand on her father's shoulder, she tried her best to comfort him, "It's ok, Father. I understand what I must do."
Her father sighed as he sat down, his expression still grim, "I know you do, Ibara, and I am sure you will be a fine Master. You have always been a brilliant girl, just like Fuyuko was."
He put his head in his hands, "I just worry. This was supposed to be a time you could spend pursuing your dreams in the heroics course. A time where you could make friends and enjoy your youth. Yet now you are drawn into this terrible conflict. This should not have to be your path."
Ibara shook her head, "Whatever happens Father, this is my path. The Grail has chosen me to hold these spells. The Lord has put this trial in my path. In his name, I will fight in this war, and ensure the Grail is returned to heaven's hands."
Yaoyorozu Estate, Aichi Prefecture
One Week Ago…
Opulence. Ambition. Brilliance.
These three words exemplified the genius known as Kenzo Yaoyorozu.
Hailed as a prodigy from a young age, the current head of the Yaoyorozu family was truly a man who embodied those three ideals.
The president of the country's leading chemical manufacturer, money was never an obstacle to Kenzo. His research contributions had reached everywhere from I-Island to Antarctica, and even Japan's government couldn't refuse him. However, Kenzo lacked one thing: the capacity for familial love.
Perhaps that flaw is what drew him to Mana Komurasaki, who, like him, put work before all else— even her family. The marriage had been lavish, as any event organized by the Yaoyorozu must be. But rather than love, Kenzo and Mana had been far more concerned with establishing connections at the accompanying reception. Their relationship was closer to business partners than husband and wife, but that is how they preferred it.
The result of their union, their daughter Momo, had been of equally little concern to Kenzo. The mansion staff would be more than sufficient to handle her upbringing. In his mind, it was illogical for innovators such as Mana and himself to waste time raising a child. He had far more important matters to attend to.
Momo's achievements in life were equally inconsequential. Why should Kenzo celebrate her graduations or awards? Such things were to be expected of a Yaoyorozu. Her decision to pursue heroics had been unfortunate, but Kenzo was not overly concerned. Eventually, Momo would see her dream of being a heroine for the foolishness it was. She would embrace her importance in the Yaoyorozu's future, as a mother to a more business-minded heir. What was far more pressing in Kenzo's opinion was this new matter: the Holy Grail War.
As a man of science, Kenzo had initially been skeptical of that young girl's claims of a wish-granting magic ritual. But ultimately he was ensnared by the possibility of fulfilling his life-long desire: immortality.
If he could acquire the Grail, he would no longer need to worry about the problem of a successor. He would be able to rule the Yaoyorozu dynasty for eternity, and the lingering uncertainties regarding his daughter would no longer matter. Yet there was still a glaring issue in Kenzo's ambitions.
"The Command Spells. Ms. Prelati indicated they would manifest before the onset of the Holy Grail War, and yet…"
Seated on the antique loveseat in the center of his office, Kenzo Yaoyorozu gazed at his hand with muted frustration. It was an ordinary hand, devoid of any markings; that was exactly the problem.
Standing nearby, Mana Yaoyorozu sorted through some books on one of the study's four large wooden bookshelves. Without turning to meet her husband's eyes, Mana spoke to him in a casual tone, "Perhaps Ms. Prelati is not as understanding as she claimed about the mechanisms of this 'Holy Grail'. Given her explanation of the system, it would make no sense if a Yaoyorozu was not chosen."
"Precisely. For the Grail to not choose me would be an impossibility considering my ambitions. I will continue to wait. It is only a matter of time."
"And what if Momo were to acquire the Command Spells?"
Kenzo's expression darkened, "Then we will forcibly transfer the Command Spells to me. I will not let my lowly daughter wield what is rightfully mine."
There was, of course, an explanation for Kenzo's missing Command Spells. When setting up the False Holy Grail War, Francesca Prelati had utilized the same systems the Fuyuki Grail used to select Masters for each of the three Founding Families. However, unlike the four remaining slots in the Fuyuki system, there were to be no ambiguous participants in this War. Instead, one Master would be selected from each of seven different groups:
The Yaoyorozu Family.
The Meta Liberation Army.
The Shie Hassaikai.
The Church.
Heroes.
Villains.
To complete the set was one of Prelati's pawns, through whom Francesca could manipulate the flow of the War.
However, Francesca's clause only ensured a Master would be selected from each of the seven groups, but not the specific individuals who would receive the Command Spells from the Grail. Furthermore, the Command Spells themselves could potentially remain hidden all the way up to the summoning of a Heroic Spirit.
Because of that potentiality, Momo Yaoyorozu, the selected candidate for the Yaoyorozu family, remained blissfully unaware of her approaching role in the coming War. All while her parents schemed in anticipation of their part to play in this False War.
A part that would never come to pass.
Uwabami Agency, Tokyo
Three Days Ago…
"Excuse me, Miss Uwabami?"
Umi Yamane, known publicly as the Pro Heroine Uwabami, looked up at a young man with brown hair dressed in crew clothes. "Is there something you need Mr…?"
The young man, nervous, almost yelped as he responded, "Kenji T-Takamura, Miss Uwabami!"
"Well, Mr. Takamura, what can I do for you? I do believe I still have time before the next take."
Takamura held out a large notecard and pen as he slightly bowed, "Miss, I-I'm a big fan! I was hoping to get an autograph!"
Umi, quite used to requests for autographs, took the notecard and pen. With practiced efficiency, she wrote her hero signature for Takamura.
Such was an ordinary day for the Snake Hero, Uwabami; a heroine who truly embodied a "Rise to Stardom."
She had begun life as the daughter of a humble zoo janitor, and heroism hadn't appeared to be her future. Umi's Quirk, Serpentress, had lacked the raw power needed to propel herself into the heroics programs of schools like U.A. or Shiketsu. Instead, she barely earned herself a spot in a low-level hero school known primarily for producing sidekicks. But through natural charm and a strong nose for business, Uwabami began to rise in popularity. She spent only a brief time as a sidekick before striking out on her own as an independent Pro Hero. Her beautiful appearance attracted fans and sponsors alike— all which continued to boost her rankings. While her battlefield prowess was not nonexistent, as a recon-type heroine, she couldn't be as prominent as heroes like Wash in her hero work. There was only so far a hero primarily popularized by commercials could go, but she was making the most of it.
Umi's achievements were impressive, and the normality with which she viewed Takamura's actions was a direct result of her popularity. Re-capping the pen, she handed the now-signed notecard back to the excited young man.
With a joyous grin, Takamura skipped away, admiring the autograph. Uwabami smiled at the adorable sight as she pushed herself out of her chair and headed toward the studio's exit.
Informing another crew member that she needed to make a private phone call, Uwabami left the studio and strode deeper into the halls of her agency. She kept moving until she made it to a particularly isolated area of the building. After a final check of her surroundings, Umi called out to the seemingly empty hallway.
"Saber. Report."
With a brief sparkle of magical energy, a figure materialized within the hallway. He was a handsome violet-haired young man with a thin yet muscular build. His stone-colored eyes made him seem both laidback and confident. One could mistake him for a model if not for his unusual outfit. He was clad in a chiton covered by pieces of dark blue Grecian armor, and at his waist was a golden sword that seemed to glimmer even in the shadows. But he was neither cosplayer nor actor— he was a genuine Heroic Spirit, pulled into existence from the Throne of Heroes.
Saber leaned against a wall, his voice calm and somewhat jovial, "I'd ask what my Master has been up to, but I doubt it would take much effort to guess."
Uwabami waved her hand dismissively, "Yes, yes. I know my routine isn't exactly varied. But what about on your end, Saber? Anything to report?"
Saber nodded. "Yes, actually. Seems the Yaoyorozu family is indeed involved in this Grail War."
The snake hero put a hand to her chin, "Just this morning we received a communication from Francesca that the sixth servant has been summoned. Was it Yaoyorozu's servant?"
"I did some close-range reconnaissance, and if I had to guess, the Yaoyorozu haven't summoned yet. There were no signs of a Heroic Spirit's presence at their estate."
"Then more likely than not, they'll be summoning their Servant sometime in the next few days."
After taking a moment to consider her options, Uwabami locked eyes with her Servant. " want you to continue nightly surveillance of the Yaoyorozu estate. You don't need to fight their servant when it appears, but I'd like you to at least learn what they look like."
Saber bowed as he dematerialized, "Understood."
Now alone, Uwamabi turned to head back the way she came.
'Only three days to go. It's time to show the False Holy Grail War how I win.'
Nagoya, Aichi Prefecture
Present Day
"Oh, it's all coming together! This'll be such fun!" Francesca Prelati, mastermind of the False Holy Grail War, rolled around on her bed excitedly.
"One more servant and everything'll be in place! We just need the Yaoyorozu family to summon Rider, and then the False War can begin!"
Lounging on the light blue-colored comforter patterned with little skulls, Francesca continued to muse, "I sure wish Jeanne was here to see this, but sadly, a Ruler would only get in the way of this little plot of ours. The Grail's rules are sooooo boring. Not the slightest bit helpful! It's nice that Foreigner managed to get the Saber class re-involved. Otherwise Umi wouldn't have summoned such an interesting guy! And now we'll have a full set of fourteen!"
The original model for the False Holy Grail War, completed by Faldeus Dioland, had been unable to properly copy the Fuyuki System. The Third Grail War it used as a reference was riddled with problems, particularly in regards to the Saber class. As a result, a False Saber servant would not have been present in the Snowfield War. In Foreigner's version, however, all seven Servant classes were capable of being summoned. Their archaic power had sealed up the imperfections.
It might not have seemed like a large change, but in a Holy Grail War, a single servant's presence could completely alter a battle's outcome— and indeed the course of an entire war.
Humming to herself, Francesca absentmindedly poked her bed, "It's annoying I don't know who summoned False Assassin. I wanted Sigma to get those Command Spells so badly, but somehow we've got a hijacker~"
Springing up, Francesca clapped her hands, the momentary disappointment being replaced by anticipation.
"I wonder if little Momo will end up getting the Command Spells! Kenzo and Mana are such bores after all."
Francesca grin was infested with malice, "But I hope whoever it is gets to summoning quickly, or the Yaoyorozu family might just meet a bad end. But y'know, that might be fun too!"